


Nothing

by jubilee_line



Series: MCYT Oneshots [5]
Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Based on a song, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), DNF, DT, Dream body reveal, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gream - Freeform, M/M, Miniseries, SO FLUFFY, Short Story, Song: Nothing (Bruno Major), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but in a good way, conveniently timed lockdown, dream team, dreamnotfound, dreamwastaken - Freeform, george and dream are both dumbass gays, george has a gay crisis, georgenotfound - Freeform, gogy, ironic pet names, makes me feel lonely, pandemic lowkey helps them get together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jubilee_line/pseuds/jubilee_line
Summary: When Dream flies over to stay with George he doesn't expect to have to prolong his trip due to a national lockdown. Whilst the two spend more time together some unexpected feelings surface in George, and maybe, just maybe, Dream feels the same way.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: MCYT Oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015708
Comments: 36
Kudos: 433





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the song Nothing by Bruno Major
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1p3XNy46a7JcOzzLksaJ9i)

It was the 17th of March when Dream flew over to the UK for a 2-week trip. They were aware of the pandemic but, like most naïve 20-something-year-olds, they just kept up the impressively optimistic view that "it won't affect us." So, when a national lockdown was announced for the 21st, they had a bit of a dilemma on their hands. They scoured the internet for flights to Florida but to no avail - they were all full.

"You know, you could always just stay here a little longer?" George said tentatively, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"No, George, I don't want to bother you for another month-"

" _ Hey _ ." He spoke more confidently this time, interrupting the Floridian's rambles. "It doesn't look like you're gonna find a flight, I have a spare room and your visa doesn't run out for a while."

"But I feel bad, I shouldn't expect you to deal with me for all that time I-"

"Don't worry about it, seriously. It will be nice to have some company. I literally would have just sat alone by my computer for the month otherwise."He laughed.

"So no change from the usual then?" Clay teased, poking his side gently.

"Dream!!!!" George shrieked, jolting away from him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Clay in real life  _ wait- _ are you ticklish?"

"No..." George replied hesitantly, so obviously lying.

"Oh George..." He taunted playfully.

"Clay  _ no- _ "George scrambled up, jumping over the bed to the far side of his room.

"C'mere George."

"Leave me alone!!" He backed into a corner as Clay stalked with a sly grin.

"Oh Georgie, you've got nowhere to hide!" He taunted as he took each deliberate step closer. He could have sworn Clay stopped for a second when they were mere centimetres apart, his breath hitching as he felt the taller's breath softly caress his face, taking in every little gold fleck in Clay's green eyes (which really looked shades of yellowy-brown to George but still just as stunning, he thought).

But seemingly as quickly as the moment was created it was lost to the shrill shriek George let out as Clay's hands tickled his sides.

"CLAY!!!" He screamed between uncontrollable laughs. "CLAY STOP!"

"I can't believe you're ticklish!" Clay wheezed, attempting to keep up the attack whilst his arms became weak from his hysterics.

"Stop!" George gasped between yelps, slipping down the wall to sit on the floor with his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his body protectively and burying his head in them to stifle the giggles he was emitting.

"OK, OK, I'll stop." Clay managed through uncontrollable wheezes, stumbling to the floor and sitting in front of him. George peeked up from his arms, his face flushed, cheeks a pretty cerise. He could have sworn he felt a thousand butterflies explode in his stomach when he was met with the sight of the blond mere centimetres away from him, his body mirroring the Brit's but his chin resting on his knees, those gorgeous eyes George loved so much never leaving his.

"You good? I didn't take it too far did I?" Clay asked, light-hearted concern written over his face and George knew he should be confronting these feelings he didn't quite understand but all he could focus on was the light smattering of freckles over his nose, or the dirty blond locks of hair just begging him to brush them out of his eyes, or the worry in his eyes despite only having tickled him.

"I'm fine you idiot." He mumbled into the arm he buried his face in once again, knowing that if he laid his eyes on Clay any longer he might just burst and it was in that moment that he first knew, quite frankly, how fucked he was.

A busy week of streaming, TV show binging, video editing, and lazy evenings had passed and not a night had gone by where George didn’t spend hours staring at the cracks in the paint of his ceiling trying to figure out his feelings. He had never felt this way about a man before but he couldn't deny how much he craved the feeling of Clay's lips on his. They just looked so soft, he knew they would feel like crushed velvet or silk or something else of the sort as he traced them with his fingertips. He would simply melt if he kissed that dip behind his earlobe, or if he stroked his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and, quite simply, just a quick kiss on his forehead would mean he could die happy. He tried to suppress them, tell himself he was being irrational or horny or god-knows what else but with every stifled thought came two more, making his heart race and his mind wander.

They hadn't really thought about telling the fans that they were visiting each other; the initial plan was to not mention it until after it happened to soothe Clay's fears of someone recognising George while they were out in London and thus knowing without a shadow of doubt that the tall, blond man by his side was Dream. They didn't mention it after that first conversation a month before the flight but it was clear to them both that as the days went past someone would slip up or something would happen and everyone would know, but that was fine - the only time either left the house was to go to the supermarket once or twice a fortnight.

  
  


The inevitable happened one late night stream. Dream had ended his, George promised to follow shortly but got distracted with all the donations and subs, and was having fun with chat. He enjoyed the quiet, personal streams like these; they felt less like a performance and more as though he was chatting to an old friend and having a grand old time.

"...Thank you so much for the £20! "Is Sapnap just as sassy off-stream?" He's even more sassy off-stream, trust me!" George laughed, scanning through the list for the next dono.

"George is my sweater in-"

"I'M STREAMING!!" George shouted as fast as he could, eyes wide as he saw Clay standing in the doorway, the door swung open.

"Oh shit." The Floridian said slowly, just standing there looking confused before taking a step in, eyes fixated on the monitor.

"Cl-Dream what are you doing?" George asked, flashing him a hazardous glance.

"It's OK, don't worry. Hi chat!" He walked closer, carefully ensuring that no more than his neck was visible on the stream before pausing behind George, wrapping his arms lazily around the smaller's neck and resting his chin on the band of his headset so that it was just out of frame.

George looked up, concern flooding his eyes before muting himself. "Are you sure you're OK with this Clay?" He asked gently, ensuring that he sat up as straight as he could as to not risk any more of his face becoming visible.

"I think so. Now, stop worrying and unmute the stream, the chat has actually gone crazy." He laughed, taking the hand George wasn't using to control the mouse in one of his and running his thumbs over each bump of a knuckle. George swore his heart skipped a couple hundred beats and then they all came at once, his ears filling with the accelerating pulse of the blood rushing through them, his face burning, his mind consumed by the weight of Clay's head resting on his, the larger hand wrapped around his, the repetitive rhythm of the pad of his thumb running from his ring finger knuckle to his pinky, just barely out of frame.

"... so the easiest thing was for me to just stay here through lockdown, right George?"

"Huh? Oh yeah of course." George attempted nonchalance but was honestly surprised at how steady his voice was, despite each of his breaths being shaky and erratic. "Chat I'm  _ not _ blushing, what the hell? It's just hot in here."

"That's what they all say." Clay mocked him, but a smile in his voice could be heard. "No he's right, it is pretty hot in here and he's wearing a hoodie too!" He added quickly, and George raised a slight eyebrow before masking the thought and nodding his head.  _ I swear he came in here looking for his jumper... _

"Anyways, I was just going to end the stream here. Dream, say bye to chat!"

"Bye chat!"

"Bye everyone!" And with that, the stream was over. Clay moved away, before noticing the aforementioned sweater, muttering something along the lines of "there it is" and "found it" then leaving George shell shocked in his chair, his face a deep red, his heart beating so fast he felt himself get dizzy, his hand tracing the path the other's thumb once had. Meanwhile, as expected, #dreambodyreveal was number 1 trending in the UK.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As George processes his feelings, he can't help but wonder whether Dream's affection is more than friendly.

George was aware that Dream was an affectionate person: he had told him a couple times in the past that he loved hugging people and constantly joked about 'cuddling with the homies', but why did it feel like just that bit more than geniality? He couldn't shake the feeling that the contact was more than friendly, hugs lasting just that bit longer than perhaps they should, every opportunity was taken to put his hand on the shorter's shoulders or grab his hand to lead him somewhere, ghost-like touches skimming his lower waist, his elbow, his shoulder which may have even seemed excessive in some situations. George put it down to his crush, convincing himself that it was him overthinking and nothing more but something told him in the back of his mind that perhaps it was something else.

It had been two weeks at this point since they had been confined to the flat, George's crush only growing stronger as Clay continued to be his overly-affectionate self. He had caved in and told Sapnap who, after teasing him for a whole hour, admitted that he was glad George felt like he could tell him that kind of thing. That didn't mean that he wouldn't continue to tease the older of the two endlessly about his crush, but it was a nice sentiment of course.

Clay and George decided streaming together yet again. They had uncovered George's ancient Wii and decided that it would only be apt for them to play Mario Kart. After figuring out the logistics of everything, they set up by his TV, face cam on George. It was an extremely entertaining stream, a nice break from the newly-emerging dramatics of the Dream Team SMP and speed runs, just the two of them being overly competitive playing a childhood favourite.

"It's not fair!" George wined sarcastically after coming in second for the fourth time in a row, losing only to Dream of course.

"What's not fair?" Clay responded, sending him an amused grin from off-stream.

"That you're so good at everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything I've seen you do at least!"

"You wanna know what  _ else _ I'm good at?" Clay shot back with an audible smirk.

"Dream, what the hell?" George's eyes widened, trying to shut down any potentially suggestive jokes coming his way; he knew he wouldn't be able to handle them. Not whilst he had this stupid crush, not whilst he was on stream and especially not whilst Clay was sitting there barely a metre away.

"Jeez George, I was gonna say making pancakes, I'm really good at making pancakes." Clay gave him a cocky smile as he watched the brunette get flustered.

"You  _ know _ what you implied," George said amused, trying (and failing) to suppress the growing blush tinting his cheeks. "You've got to make me pancakes now to prove your skills."

"Tomorrow morning. I'll make you breakfast." Clay responded, running his hand through his messy blond locks. "Now start a new game!"

George wouldn't admit it, but normally he was actually pretty good at Mario Kart. He just couldn't focus on the game. He would start off with his gaze on the screen, but he would steal quick glances at Clay whenever he could, marvelling at the way he bit his lip when he focused, or how he would bounce his knee up and down when he got into more stressful situation, and how engrossed he was in flipping  _ Mario Kart _ , for god's sake... but George found it endearing, either way. When he started seeing a few messages in the chat asking what he was looking at he knew he had to try and stop; if it was obvious to chat it was probably obvious to Clay, and no way in hell did he want to make him uncomfortable. So, as difficult as it was, he tried to keep his eyes trained on the TV in front of him and it did pay off, with George letting out triumphant, deafening screams which would surely lead to noise complaints the few times he won. He knew paying attention would help, but he could have sworn he saw the Floridian purposefully drive off the side, or into a banana a few times. It could have been a coincidence, but it made George smile either way.

George had forgotten about the offhand comment Dream had made on stream the day before, but the Floridian certainly hadn't. He had promised to make pancakes, and he did just that. He set an alarm for 9:30 - far earlier than George would wake up with his well and truly marred sleep schedule as he decided that the least he could do for his friend, who had welcomed him into his home for three weeks at this point, was make him breakfast in bed.

He had stayed at the flat long enough to know roughly where everything was and, although he tried hard to be quiet, the clattering of pans and banging of closing cupboards was enough to wake the Brit, whose room was directly above the kitchen.

"What are you doing Clay?" George yawned as he padded into the kitchen, slumping onto one of the splintering wooden chairs at his dining room table before becoming incredibly aware of how awful he must look having just woken up, running some fingers through his hair in a desperate effort to cure his bedhead.

"I'm making you pancakes!" The blond exclaimed and George could have sworn he just melted there and then. Something about the innocent joy in Dream's words, his adorable morning voice, slightly lower and rougher than usual, his annoyingly perfect hair despite having been asleep or just the sheer fucking domesticity of it. Although they had been living together for 3 weeks there was something about cooking breakfast for him which felt too intimate to be friendly. That was the kind of thing that married couples did - not friends who had only met in real life less than a month ago.

"Wha-why are you- what?" George stumbled on his words, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until the phosphenes shifting their intricate patterns behind them started to merge. "Why are you up so early?"

"I wanted to make you breakfast in bed!" Dream chuckled with a cheeky grin before turning back to the stove and flipping the pancake in front of him. "But now you've woken up."

"Why would you do that?" George asked quietly, his voice thick with sleep, velvety and soft. So much so, in fact, that Dream barely caught the words.

"What do you mean why would I do that? Because you're my best friend! Can't the reason just be that I like to see you smile?"

" _ Clay _ ," He whispered for no reason in particular and thank god he was looking at the stove or he would have seen George's entire face go bright red before he hastily buried it in his arms.

"Think of it as a thank you, then... for letting me stay in your home and being such a good host." He finished, and George's focus consumed with his words, tossing them about in his head, basking in how they felt, how they sounded, how they would feel on his tongue should he say them or better yet, should Clay say them with that gorgeous rich voice of his. He was so utterly fixated on this that he didn't hear the footsteps approaching, the gentle clink of the plate being placed in front of him pulling him out of his daze.

"Boo." George jolted up, barely missing the blond behind him in what could have very easily ended with a broken nose, the chair screeching against the kitchen tiles as he jerked away in shock.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"Can't have you falling asleep on me, can we?" Clay chuckled before ruffling the brunette's hair, sending the grouchy frown a smile the Brit couldn't help but return. "Breakfast is served, my dear." He joked as he returned with a plate of his own, also piled up with four fluffy American pancakes, drowning in maple syrup and surrounded by fresh berries.

"Tha-thank you." George croaked out through the gay panic he was experiencing over the unexpected, albeit sarcastic, pet name. Clay noticed; he'd have to be pretty blind to not, but simply dug in, demolishing the delicious food.

"Are you not gonna start? I haven't poisoned it, I promise." The Floridian mumbled through a mouth full of pancakes as George just sat there, dazed

"I.. You... You can't just call me that, Clay." He said slowly, sorting through words in his mind until he reached the closest thing to the right ones as he could find in his current state of bewilderment.

"What?  _ Dear _ ?" The blond laughed, enjoying how awkward the other boy was being at the lighthearted teasing.

"Yes! That." George responded, his cheeks on fire, gaze fixated on his lap.

"What would you prefer then-"

"Clay-"

"Honey?

Love?"

Each word gained more emotion, to the point where George could have sworn that he was saying the pet names like he meant them.

"No-"

"Angel?"

He paused for a second, and then spoke with full intention, eyes catching onto George's as he moved them up for just a glance.

_ "Baby?" _

" _Jesus Christ_." He muttered under his breath, staring back at him with those big, doe-like eyes.

The air was thick with tension, every breath intending to choke George, and he nearly gasped, coercing his lungs to expand and contract. He was acutely aware of the noise that each breath made, the silence both deafening and amplifying their every move. Neither had ever taken it that far and neither quite knew what to do. Their gaze remained locked, expressions unreadable and each second that passed felt like a century.

"Eat your pancakes, they're gonna be cold soon." Clay offered timidly before staring intently at his food, each proceeding as if it had never happened whilst the event played on repeat in the back of their minds.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that there will be one more chapter after this one! :)


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Believe me when I say, George, that there is nothing quite like doing nothing with you.”

The day was wasted with almost-plans, idle gaming with no real intent and Clay, being the housewife he had somehow become, insisted on making spaghetti bolognese for dinner instead of ordering a takeaway. At the beginning, it was awkward. Like, really awkward. Neither said a word whilst they ate, George reluctantly turning on the news which only served as some sort of noise in the unbearable silence that had settled between them, droning on about covid this and covid that, as it had for the past few months. Fortunately for them and the insufferable tension, Sapnap called whilst the taste of pancakes still lingered on their lips and the last of the cooking equipment was being scrubbed dry by an emotionally confused Clay who insisted on doing the washing up. Even if some of the tension lingered, most of it dissipated as the poor middle ground that was Nick forced them to get along. When the sunset had all but faded into indigo and the stars broke through the largely interrupted expanse of sky which only wisps of clouds had dared to dance across during the day, they were almost back to normal.  _ Almost.  _

  
  


“So,” Clay started, throwing himself onto the plush leather sofa with a soft ‘oof’, “what do you want to watch?” 

“I don’t mind, you choose.” George sighed, sitting down on the same sofa, creating as much space as was physically possible between the two of them. Clay raised an eyebrow, but he knew better than to comment on it.

“Come  _ on _ , you’ve gotta give me  _ something _ !” He exclaimed with a chuckle, watching tired tawny eyes blink slowly, lazily, like a cat’s. “Just- pick a genre at least. I need something to go off of!”

George hummed in acknowledgement, pausing for a second before looking back up to meet Clay’s gaze and speaking, “How about a romance?”

  
“A  _ romance _ ?” 

“You told me to pick a genre, I picked one! What are you complaining about?” George shot back a little defensively, pulling his legs up from where they were swinging (they couldn’t reach the ground. He was rather sensitive about it.) to hug them by his chest, curling in on himself.

“Wait- no, I’m not complaining, just… surprised.” It was the truth. Clay certainly  _ wasn’t _ expecting George to pick something romantic. To be honest, he didn’t really know what he expected, he admitted to himself. Perhaps Harry Potter? Some generic action movie? A comedy? 

George raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher Clay’s thoughts. “Didn’t take me for a romantic?” 

Clay chuckled despite nothing being funny. It was curious how someone could be so blunt yet so enigmatic. “Well, you’ve never given me any reason to, to be honest.” 

George had dated one girl whilst Clay had known him, and it didn’t exactly go well. He took her on two dates, both of which he complained about for hours before they happened as if dates aren’t something you go on for  _ pleasure.  _ George groaned like they were something he was being forced to go on, like the girl was an object in a tiresome game that it was necessary he play-  _ and then it hit him. _ He wasn’t going to bring it up, but the idea he had been so adamantly pushing away, trying so desperately to disprove; it was the answer all along, a solution so impossibly perfect it ached. .  _ George didn’t like girls _ . He never had. So  _ that’s _ why he had never seemed like a romantic.

“Half of all romance movies and books are poorly written excuses of work which make me want to be sick. I guess this will show me if you have taste.” George paused for a second, watching as Clay withdrew from the deep ponderance he was lost in, and speaking again before he had the chance to start. “I don’t watch many movies anyway… I never really have the time- and when I do, I don’t often feel like it.” 

“When do you feel like it, then?” George noticed that Clay’s tone was different. It was much more gentle, cautious. He didn’t know what had changed, and he didn’t know if he liked it.

“I prefer to watch movies with other people, I guess. It’s much more entertaining when there’s someone else around…” He trailed off, watching Clay intently before speaking again without much indication that he would, “what about  _ you _ , then?”

“What about me?” 

“Would you call yourself a romantic?” 

The blond took a few seconds to think, subconsciously cracking his knuckles with his thumbs, an action which earned him a disproving glance from George. “It depends how you define a romantic… but if I  _ had _ to answer, I would say probably.” 

“Huh…  _ interesting _ .” George responded. And he meant it. People have a tendency to say ‘interesting’ in response to something dry, something they don’t care about, a topic to move away from, but it was clear to both of them that he meant it. There was another little silence, something that seemed to litter their conversations just about as frequently as the words being said. And it was too much, too much for George, at least. So he spoke, changing the subject, reluctantly, utilising ‘interesting’ in the very way he had intended  _ not _ to. “Well then, are you  _ going _ to pick a movie or not?”

“How about  _ The Notebook _ ?”

“Sure - I've actually never seen it. People do seem to like it though, from what I’ve heard.”

“You’ve never seen it?! This will be, like,  _ the seventeenth time _ I have! My sisters used to always pick it on family movie nights. _ It’s kinda stupid _ ,” He rolled his eyes, much to the amusement of George, “but we always come back to it, so I guess that counts for something.” 

The changes in pace of their conversation was giving him whiplash. It was difficult because they fell into a pattern that was somewhat reminiscent of normalcy,, laughing, comfortable, mundane, but then  _ somehow _ the goddamn tension would creep back, like a fog forced down for a second only to spring up twice as thick as before it was repressed. The movie was set up, George mumbling in approval that it was on Netflix. Clay shoved him gently, reminding him that both could certainly pay for it without a second thought. They poured glasses of red wine from the bottle Clay had  _ insisted _ on opening if he was going to make his spaghetti, indulging in the oxymoron of fine wine and tracksuits as they watched the movie. 

  
  
  
  


“That wasn’t bad actually-” George started nonchalant, ready to launch into his full movie-critic lecture, but as he turned to get Clay’s opinion he barely noticed his rosy cheeks shimmering, reflecting the warm glow of the lamplight, “-are you crying?”

“I- I’m not!” Clay stuttered defensively, aggressively wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

“It was really sad - it’s okay to cry.”

“Yeah, but I’m  _ not _ !” He protested like a stubborn child, letting out a wet laugh, struggling to catch each tear that fell as they came faster and faster. “Okay, maybe I am.” 

“Do you need a hug?” George chuckled, not waiting for the younger to respond before clambering onto his lap, pushing his head up against Clay’s so that his chin was resting in his hair, George’s face was hot against the soft skin of his neck as he wrapped on hand around his waist to rest at the small of his back, the other tangling in the blond hair just past his neck.

“You don’t need to hug me George, I’m literally fine!” 

“Is that why you’re holding me so tightly, then?” It was true. Just as quickly as George had climbed into his lap his arms had wrapped protectively around George, holding him close.

“I’m not gonna turn down a perfectly good hug being given to me!” He laughed, squeezing George a little tighter. They pulled apart slightly, only enough that it was possible to see the other’s faces. Clay’s gaze fell to his lap, both to avoid eye contact and to make it less obvious that, although slowed, the tears were still coming.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of crying, you know.” George muttered, reaching up to cup Clay’s cheek in an attempt to gently tip his head and meet his glistening eyes. “It’s refreshing actually- seeing someone cry so openly… I’ve always found it hard to express how I’m feeling- but you know that.” He continued, his gentle smile widening as Clay leaned into the touch of his hand.

“That’s why I tell you how much I love you so often. I don’t want you to forget it!” His tone was light, but when he paused, something changed. “ _ I love you _ , George.”

It felt different this time. It always held meaning but these words felt solid, grounded, as if all the emotion he was feeling at that point had been channelled into those four words. Their gazes flitted between emotive eyes and soft lips, their faces, mere centimetres away from each other. George could feel his own breath fan, warm, against Clay’s tear-stained cheeks from where his thumbs laid, rubbing gentle circles and catching every tear that dared to fall, and he revelled in the feeling that was Clay’s breath on his. They both leaned closer painfully slowly, the hesitancy a silent question of consent, only answered by the fact that neither drew away. 

When their lips touched, there were no explosions of brilliant fireworks, nor were there electric currents pulsating between the two. There was only  _ warmth _ . So much warmth, encompassing them both from where their lips met to where George was sat firmly in Clay’s lap to Clay's hands splayed out on the smaller’s upper back, covering a significant portion of it and pulling him even closer. There was warmth in George’s fingertips which lay in that soft crook behind his ears, warmth in the way they both smiled into the kiss, warmth in the message that they both shared, unspoken. The warmth of  _ wanting _ , and the warmth of  _ being wanted _ .

“That was okay, wasn’t it? You- you did want it too, right?” George practically whispered - there was no need to speak any louder.

Clay melted at the concern that clouded tawny eyes. “More than  _ anything _ .” 

He affirmed the words with another quick kiss, then pressing one on his nose, on his forehead, his cheekbones, until it seemed that not a inch of skin was left un-kissed, and Clay liked it that way. It was a way of affirming his words, those words he’d said so many times, showing George the extent to which he meant them. He poured his heart into each kiss, savouring his expression, which was nothing short of  _ adoring _ . For someone who struggled to show their emotions, he was doing a pretty damn good job at that moment. Clay gave one final lingering kiss onto George’s rosy lips before moving back slightly and pulling him into his chest, holding them as close together as would be physically possible.

“ _ I love you. _ ” He whispered softly. “ _ I love you I love you I love you. _ ” He didn’t wait for George to say it back; he didn’t need to, not yet. One of his hands moved from the small of his back to lace through chocolate hair, drawing a hum of contentment out of George. 

“I’m glad that this bloody pandemic happened.” George mumbled into the crook of Clay’s neck where his face was buried.

Clay gasped in shock, but it was met with amusement in his exclamation, “George! You can’t say that!”

“Okay,  _ okay _ ! I’m glad that you were forced to stay with me for longer than you were meant to. It’s so nice to just-  _ live with you _ .” George admitted bashfully as he found the words for what he was expressing, words he’d been searching for even before Clay was stranded here. Of course he wasn’t glad that people were dying - what he was glad for was that he got Clay to himself for  _ even longer.  _ “I love eating breakfast with you in the mornings, and being able to see you- like  _ actually _ see you- and- and not have to worry about waking you up ‘cus we’re finally in the same time zone…” He trailed off, not knowing how Clay would feel about this outburst of emotion - not knowing how  _ he  _ felt about it. “Is that weird? Is- is that too much?”    
  
“Not at all.” Clay reassured him, still repetitively carding his hand through George’s hair. It was reassurance, constant. “I feel the same.”

“You do?”

“I do. Believe me when I say, George, that  _ there is nothing quite like doing nothing with you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Long time, no see, amirite? Sorry about that! I have been busy though (insert shameless self promo blah blah blah go read [Blue Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077819) and [International Relation(ship)s](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346667), they're full length DNF fics, if you like this you'll like them etc etc). Anyways! I am really sorry for the wait, I hope this makes up for it! I like some of this chapter, other bits not so much, but we move. I hope you've all had a great Christmas (if you celebrate it), a Happy New Year (again, if you celebrate it) and are having a good 2021, even if it is seeming worse than 2020. I'm getting off-track, aren't I? Massive thanks to [Lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/putthycat) for beta-ing this and for just being a great person in general. Go read their fic [The Bodyguard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27665558), you won't regret it. I promise. This has become way longer than I have intended, whoops, but I guess I hope to see you in the comment section of one of my other fics!
> 
> Your's faithfully,
> 
> Artio <3


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